


On Wheels

by buttercuppoisoning



Series: humanity, humanity [1]
Category: Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Gen, Human AU, background x/zero, blues is emotionally and physically dying constantly, im sorry i should be updating that other fic, so am I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:50:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8239943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttercuppoisoning/pseuds/buttercuppoisoning
Summary: The gentle roll of his wheelchair against the pavement is soothing.Especially when his palms are clammy with sweat and his breaths are coming out in short wheezes and it burns to even inhale.





	

The gentle roll of his wheelchair against the pavement is soothing.  
Especially when his palms are clammy with sweat and his breaths are coming out in short wheezes and it burns to even inhale.  
He had went on a walk with his cane but before he knew it he had been out there for hours and his chest was constricting and his legs were beginning to shake and in another instant he had collapsed onto the bumpy ground in the dark.

So he pulled out his phone and dialed the last person he texted and though he couldn’t speak, the person on the other end of the line- who happened to be X, at a “friend’s” house- knew he was having trouble from the rattle of his phone clinking against the ground as his hands couldn’t hold it steady and the wheeze of his breathing in the microphone.  
He said he’d come right away, and he was correct.

X carried the chair with ease over to the park. It barely took him ten minutes. He’s a strangely muscular boy for someone who’s so soft. Blues doesn’t know what sports he does at school. X won’t tell him. Sometimes Blues sees him come home with a bloody nose. It’s weird to see on such a softie.

 

He’s wearing Zero’s shirt and his hair is all messy. X neatly combs it every morning.  
Blues knows, and he shares a subdued smile with himself. He watched X set off on his bike with a bouquet of roses in the basket this morning. He knows those are Zeros favorite.  
X talks about him a lot.  
Zero talks about X a lot, too.  
Blues tries to arrange things in the middle.

It’s hard. X and Zero are dense as bricks. The romantic tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Blues tries to laugh at the memory of Mr. Wily and his sons walking in the door- when X and Zero made eye contact, all the Light children knew. It comes out as a little cough and his chest constricts.

...X brought him his earbuds and helped put them in when Blues’ hands were shaking too badly for him to do it himself.  
He’s a good brother, and he knows Blues well. He’s a little glad that X was there instead of his younger siblings. Besides, they wouldn’t be safe out here this late, and he didn’t want to wake them up. No doubt they were long-asleep.

He’s being wheeled home in the dark after taking a rushed dose of medication to calm the pain and ease his breathing, which is sort-of helping, sort-of not. His little brother and sister are sleeping cozy in bed, breathing easy. He’s a little jealous sometimes. But he thinks he’s over it.

Blues can hear X gasp every time he coughs or wheezes.  
“I’m fine,” he tries to mumble. It doesn’t really come out as anything audible, but as Blues weakly waves his hand, X gets the idea, though he doesn’t quite believe him. X was the mama bird of the family when dad was out- the kind of kid that the parents always leave in charge.

He’s all wrapped up in a blanket that was draped on the back of his wheelchair, patched up with red and cyan. It’s his favorite color. The canary-yellow fabric is old and well-loved. X didn’t want him to be cold.

The music is quiet in his ears. He might be falling asleep.

 

He thinks he’s humming. X is giggling.  
His humming might have turned into a raspy whistle, but he doesn’t care.

Blues drifts off.  
One earbud falls out of his ear.

He’s set in his bed when X gets him home. X puts a glass of water on the nightstand next to the stack of abandoned and scattered sheet music, and almost knocks off the little pen shaped like an ice-cream cone.  
Blues’ cane was abandoned at the park in their panic- X had never seen Blues out this late before- it was usually Rock who went to get Blues if he was having an episode. X was worried something really bad had happened. They’d have to go get it later.

Blues’ wheelchair is gently pushed next to his bed. The yellow blanket resting on it is draped over him, and X places the phone that’s still playing music into his dock.  
Classical music quietly echoes through the room. He knew that Bluess liked to leave music on while he slept. He could always hear it from his room.  
Not that X was complaining. His brother had good taste, though X was a definite metal fan as well.

He needed to watch over him. Blues’ health was fragile. He had a tendency to wake up in coughing fits, especially after hard nights.

X adjusts the water so that it’s easier for him to grab.  
He absentmindedly neatens up the half-written papers with messy notes scribbled on the staffs.  
At least, despite his health issues, Blues could still enjoy music.  
X pulls his phone out of his pocket

Three alerts from Zero, who may or may not be “Hot Blonde” in his phone. With a couple million heart emojis.

“is blues okay?”  
“text me when you get home.”  
“you left your stuff here. i’ll be over this morning.”

The clock on his phone reads “1:16 AM.” No wonder he feels so tired- X lost track of time. Must run in the family. He chuckles to himself.  
Drawing the blanket further over his brother and ruffling his hair, X stands up and quietly leaves the room, pulling the door shut.

“He’s fine. See you later!”

X walks past Rock and Roll’s room- they seem to have fallen asleep with a thick book and a flickering flashlight rolling on the floor.  
He steps in and shuts it off. No need to waste energy. Those two bought the flashlight on a camping trip with their own money, and he knew they were fond of it.  
The stickers pasted on it made it all the more endearing.

Finally, he reaches his room. The cyan lava lamp in the corner lights the edges of the furniture, though he still reaches over to pull the chain of a cloud-shaped lamp and illuminate the space.  
There’s faint coughing from Blues’ room. And the clink of a glass being picked up and put down again.  
X flops down on his bed, and just as he’s about to fall asleep, a quiet buzz comes from his pocket. X digs out his phone again.  
The message is from Blues.

“Thanks, X.”

“Of course! =)”


End file.
